Crimson on Ivory
by spinefire
Summary: She remembers when she stopped playing piano and started playing hearts.


Misa thinks about the first time she played the piano. Her parents had signed her up for lessons at the age of five.

_(Don't you want to be well rounded?)_

She wore a frilly ivory dress and banged on the ivory keys in front of her patient instructor. It was hard to memorize the keys

_(CDEFGABCDEFG)_

However, Misa managed and her parents were _so_ proud. She had _so_ many recitals, and everyone agreed that she was _so _cute and _so_ good! She played and played and played, her fingers moving elegantly.

Misa liked the end of the recitals best, when ivory roses would be presented to her, wrapped in a sparkly crimson ribbon that she would keep for ages.

Misa thinks about the time when she stopped playing piano and started playing hearts.

It was a beautiful night, and her parents had taken her out for dinner. She couldn't remember why, but they had, and she had worn the most elegant dress. Her mother had picked it out, ivory with little beads traveling the neckline.

When they had gotten home, Misa had broken the heel of her shoe, and had to take them off, causing her to lag behind significantly.

Misa had rushed into the house, brimming with apologies, before noticing the whimpers and screams in the living room.

She had rounded the corner, peering out ever so slightly, and seen

_(BANG!BANG!)_

And she was filled with hate and sadness and was left utterly broken.

Misa had enough sense to stay still until the man had snuck out, then had called the cops, hysteria edging into her voice before they managed to get all the information.

She had been clutching her parents tightly, feeling for a pulse, for a heartbeat, for _anything_

When she had woken up, Misa had been sitting at the piano, playing the song her parents never got to hear, with some of the keys having bloody fingerprints. The dress matches the keys, blood on white, crimson on ivory, death on purity.

Misa was sent to a psychiatrist who's far too movie-like and far too unrealistic. She learned that the case was being postponed, no one is willing to believe a half-mad girl and the burglar is unbelievably good at finding lawyers.

Therefore, Misa acts and movie-psychiatrist falls under her spell. She's released and she steeled herself carefully, she would, could, and shouldn't break down.

The case stays postponed and Misa becomes a model

_(No one trusts ditzy models around classical pianos. Who knows what they'd break?)_

Misa becomes stupid, because no one wants to tell stupid people bad news and no one wants a stupid person at a fancy party where they play piano and drink wine and are happy.

_(Because you can forget about quintets and sextets and piano trios. No one has to know who you were, you can forget about who you were.)_

Misa thinks about how this will be the first time she's played in such a long time.

Misa thinks that it's kind-sorta sad that this will be the last time she ever plays.

However, she persists and hikes up her painted wedding gown, and places her painted gloves on the painted keys.

Everything is so delightfully crimson, a color Raito often reminded her of.

She puts her hands on the still white keys and closes her eyes carefully.

Misa plays and it's rusty at first, years of not playing finally catching up, but it gets better. It reminds her of the time when she first was presented ivory roses and she hopes everyone takes a hint and gives her crimson this time.

The tears pour down her face, she cannot fucking stop and suddenly The Bridal Chorus turns into Chopin's Funeral March, and Misa really cannot stop crying.

Misa can barely think, just play and cry and play and cry and _play _and _cry._

She's too sad to notice that her tears are washing away the child's watercolor paints she used on the piano. Too, busy concentrating to know that the barely dried paint is becoming wet again. Too lost to notice that the keys are slowly dripping crimson on the floor, leaving pinkish ivory in their wake.

--

Total crap yes? YAYZ!

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note (But I bet you already knew that)


End file.
